


leave

by shortythescreen



Series: The Love of Bloth Hundr [2]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: AMAB Bloodhound, Bittersweet, Canon Non-Binary Character, Fluff and Angst, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Light Angst, Oral Sex, Other, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Pre Apex Games, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 21:33:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20442881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shortythescreen/pseuds/shortythescreen
Summary: Something has been bothering Bloodhound.They finally tell you what.





	leave

**Author's Note:**

> thank u to my bb phoena for proof reading this a bit. 
> 
> continuation from my oneshot of BH and the reader being married. You don't need to read that to read this but it's a little HappierTM. 
> 
> enjoy!!!

There is something the matter with Bloodhound.

They try to hide their pensiveness from you, but you know your spouse very well. Ever since they returned from the temple of their Allfather only two nights ago, they are quieter. Where beforehand you always awoke to their voice humming in your ear, soft promises of a good day and to return as quickly as possible, you now find yourself in bed alone when you awaken.

They also seem to be seeking solitude more often. You have never questioned the time they spend alone – it is important to them to enjoy their own company. Yet the frequencies of this quiet time seems to have increased since their temple visit.

You aren’t one to pry – Bloodhound will tell you if something is bothering them in their own time. So though you have noticed that something seems to be troubling them, you have yet to ask after them.

You sit on the steps of your little cottage, whittling away a totem. You and Bloodhound built this home from the ground up, and proof of their touch is in the wood, along with yours. Carved into the rails on either side of the stairs are intricate patterns. The majority of them are Bloodhound’s works, symbols of the Allfather, like the valknut, etched into the wood.

Though you both enjoy living more closely with nature, any modernity of the house is your doing. Bloodhound’s beliefs are far more olden and dedicated than your own. They believe the closer to earth you are, the closer to the gods. You told them the gods could live with a ceiling fan and running water.

The sun is beginning to tumble beneath the horizon, casting brilliant hues of orange and purple across your forest. Twilight never lasts long enough for your liking. It seems the time where the space between realms is thinnest, where you can sense the spirits. Their happy toes dance through the forest, giggles carried in the wind. Were you as religious as your love, you would say that twilight is the time you can truly feel the gods.

You are pulled from your thoughts at the flap of wings. Your eyes flicker up and you smile fondly at Arthur, who settles on the steps next to you. He drops a shiny blue pebble next to your leg and you coo, setting aside your totem.

“What a beautiful stone, Arthur! I’ll be sure to place it with the rest of them,” you say, picking up the rock and reaching over to gently stroke the raven’s soft feathers. He preens, pressing his head into your palm.

“He found it near the temple today,” your spouse says and you look to your left as they finally catch up to their bird companion. They stroll towards the steps and you smile adoringly when they place their gloved hand on top of your head. “Hello, dear.”

“Hello, my love,” you murmur, pressing up into their palm, much like Arthur did to you. They smooth their hand over your hair, down to your cheek, thumb brushing gently over the bone there. You hum, nuzzling your face into their palm. “I have missed you. Your hunt today was fruitful?”

They nod, pulling their hand away from your face but keeping it outstretched. You take their hand, giggling as Arthur’s feathers ruffle. He seems perturbed with your attention being elsewhere so you are sure to send a kiss his way. It does little to soothe him. Bloodhound helps you up and you’re slightly taller than them from your place on the steps.

“Let’s stay. It isn’t often I get to see above you.” You say. Their mask keeps their expression a mystery, but you hear their telling snort.

“What were you making?” They ask, tilting their head towards the steps, where Arthur is now pecking interestedly at your totem. You cast him a withering glare, unhappy with the bid for your attention, though your lips twitch fondly.

“A hammer. I was hoping to have it ready for you before you returned, but I woke up late and could not seem to find something good to carve it from until after noon.” You say. Your attention is drawn away from Arthur when Bloodhound wraps their arms around your waist. They shuffle you towards the edge of the step you are standing on, resting their head against your chest.

Though the gesture is unusual, your arms instinctively circle their shoulders. Their goggles are cool against your warm skin and you run one hand between their shoulder blades.

“I was thinking of you today too,” they murmur sweetly, voice so soft that it almost follows the giggles of the spirits. “I need to speak to you about something… Urgent.” 

“Of course,” you say, squeezing their arm and looking up at the first twinkles of starlight. “Would you like to talk here or inside?”

“Perhaps inside,” they say, and you hum your agreement. They slowly pull away, dragging their palms across your sides so that their touch lingers. You smile gently when they are far enough away to meet your gaze and they squeeze your hip in response.

You stoop down to pick up Arthur’s pebble and your totem before you two head inside. He trills quietly at his new toy being taken but is soothed at you having taken his gift with you. You watch him retire to his nest, on the sill of an open window, where he begins to quietly clean himself.

Just as you promised him, you set his gift among the many others, located above the fireplace towards the center of the house.

Bloodhound takes a seat at the table. There are only two chairs, as you two very rarely have visitors and do not expect to grow your family any time soon. You find your place next to them as they lift their helmet off and you can see their naked face once more.

“There you are,” you whisper, reaching out to reverently touch their cheek. They smile at you, all disarming dimples and pretty braided hair. You trace the dark scar that cuts across their left side. The beast that had given it to them had come dangerously close to taking their eye. Its pelt now lays on your bed. “Tell me love, what has been troubling you?”

“You’ve noticed?” They ask. You smirk, tilting your head and raising a brow at them. “I tried to be subtle…”

“To an untrained eye, you have been. But I know you,” you say, and they nod along, reaching up to encase your hand in theirs.

There is a moment of silence as they tangle their fingers with yours, squeezing hard. You wait, letting them gather their thoughts and it is with a shaky sigh that they finally tell you.

“I must leave.”

Your expression slackens for a moment before knotting in confusion. Bloodhound does not meet your eye, gaze trained on the table. Whatever could that possibly mean?

“Leave?” You ask, bewildered. “Leave and go where?”

Bloodhound’s dark eyes finally drag up to meet yours. They’re such an odd shade of brown, just shy of red. You swear when they call upon their Allfather, when they tap into their inner beast, they are.

“I must shed bloth, and honor the Allfather,” they murmur and you shake your head, leaning back. Not in spite, or in emotion, but simply bafflement.

“You shed blood here. At home. Every day,” you say. Your lean is stopped by their hand still tangled with your own. You now register they are squeezing it. “You hunt daily for the Allfather’s blood offerings, why would you need to _leave_-”

“It is his will, beloved,” they whisper. You stop short, throat bobbing as you hold their gaze. “He wishes me to go to the Outlands. There, I will find my place to honor him…”

You are not as faithful as your beloved spouse and you are both aware of that. Bloodhound is a servant of the Allfather and you have never minded that before. You have carved them symbols of protection, have given them blessings for a fortuitous hunt when you never quite believed they needed them. Your relationship with the Allfather has been blissfully neutral – and now, you cannot help but hate him, just a little.

Bloodhound sighs as though the weight of their entire body has become too much for them. Then, to your surprise, they sink to their knees out of the chair. Concern joins the tangled up knot of your reeling for half a second before you realize they’re grabbing the edges of your seat with firm hands, twisting you to face them. You look down at them and your heart becomes paper, crumpling and tearing as you are reminded that the last time they kneeled before you this way, they were asking you to marry them.

“Please, my love. I need you to understand – were it my choice, I would tote you to the edges of the earth. To leave you is the hardest thing I will ever do. But this is my duty alone, my burden, and I must do this. I have to go.” They murmur, grabbing both of your hands and bringing them to their lips.

It seems awfully selfish of the Allfather to demand so much of your spouse. You two have lived such a quiet, happy life in your corner of the woods.

“I would never stop you,” you finally say, voice breaking, and you don’t realize you’ve started crying until they reach up to brush away tears dripping down your cheeks. “But- Must we- Is this the end of- Why must you go where I can’t follow?”

“I will return to you,” they cradle your face in their hands as you sniffle, now dreadfully aware the way your vision is flooding, how you can’t see Bloodhound through the tears that fall from your eyes without you having to blink. You didn’t want to cry, did not want to saddle them with more guilt than you know they must have been feeling these past few days. “I will. You have my word, beloved, this is not forever. We will be together again.”

They rub your cheeks, as though trying to erase the evidence of your sadness. They guide you to rest your forehead against their own as those almost red eyes tenderly stare into your own.

“Please don’t cry,” they whisper, unable to get any other words out. You brokenly chuckle, shaking your head as your hands find their shoulders. Suddenly, you are trying to memorize the contours of their body, the way they smell, the way they look.

“I love you,” you whimper, and you have only a moment to see their expression collapse before they kiss you.

Bloodhound has always been the less affectionate of the two of you. They do not seek your touch nearly as often as you seek theirs. Yet now, kneeling before you, they kiss you like you’re the one that’s going to disappear. Your fingers tangle in their thick hair, pulling them harshly against you and they drag their hands down your front, to grip your thighs.

“I love you too,” they whisper between kisses as they pull you to stand, closing the gap between your bodies. Your hands wander down their muscular frame, tracing the risen bumps where you can feel scars of their hunt beneath their clothes. “More than I have ever loved anyone, I love you. Please forgive me.”

“Nothing needs forgiven,” you say as they move the chair you had been sitting in out the way. They begin to walk you back towards your bedroom. Their lips slot over yours like the missing piece of a puzzle and you sigh, melting against them.

The only thing separating your bedroom from the rest of the house is a curtain in the doorway. It brushes over your shoulders as you and Bloodhound make your way towards your bed. It is covered in soft furs that, as your knees hit the back of the bed, cushion your fall backwards.

Bloodhound stares longingly down at you. You know them well enough to know when they are hungry for it, recognize the way their eyes sear your skin. Something else burns with it, though, the fire of lust accompanied by the sting of desperation.

“Well,” you say, finally managing to stop the flow of tears. Their gaze flickers from your body to your face. You stretch your arms up languidly, the ghost of the teasing smirk you usually give them flashing across your face. “If you’re so desperate for forgiveness, you don’t earn it by _staring_.” 

They chuckle, shaking their head, and you pretend like you don’t see the red rim around their eyes. You don’t want to cry anymore. Not for something that cannot be stopped, no matter how much you wish it could be.

Bloodhound has always fucked you like an animal. They enjoyed the way you keened for their teeth in your skin, for the way they pulled your hair. They loved how you screamed their name when they hit you, when your skin bloomed dark with bruises from the way they handled you. They love how you sobbed when they made you come over and over again, how you couldn’t quite decide whether you wanted them to stop immediately or ever.

Now, they touch you like you’re made of glass. You want to hate it, because it reminds you that tonight is different from every other night. Yet their hands deftly removing your clothes and tracing every line of your skin revealed to them makes your eyes water with tears.

You feel their devotion, know with every reverent touch that they are committing you to memory just as much as you are them. Their thumbs rotating firmly over your nipples, their teeth scraping your neck instead of sinking in. It’s almost a tease but you push into them anyway, murmuring their name, letting them explore your body with the familiarity that only an old lover could have.

They spend the night working you up, using skilled hands to set every point they touch ablaze. They open you up with their fingers, their tongue, enjoying the way you taste, the way you smell, the way you sound.

Like they always do, they make you come repeatedly before they finally fuck you. They suck and lick and make you tremble. You desperately want to do the same, to make them feel as cherished as you do. You can feel how hard they are before you finally look at their cock. Beautiful, uncut and heavy with arousal. Your mouth waters when you see it leaking but Bloodhound does not allow you the opportunity to swallow it. 

When they eventually slide home into your opening, softened by their exploration, you’re so full and overwhelmed that you’re crying. You cannot differentiate your pleasure and your adoration and you weep. 

“Bloth-” you gasp with every pointed thrust of their hips. Their forehead is resting against yours the first time, watching your expression slacken with pleasure as they stretch you wide. You stare back, watching them pant, and for a moment, their eyes seem red.

They make love to you as though the world is ending and, in a way, it is. The private world you’ve built in the woods, the solitude you two have shared for such a long time will be no more come the dawn. So perhaps you’re greedy for each other, groping and savoring and clutching.

They have you on your back, on your side, cock dragging along tender walls and you sniffle all the way through it, grabbing any part of them you can reach in whatever position they put you in. When they orgasm it’s with a whisper through their teeth of your name instead of a roar. They press their slick head against your shoulder, and you convince yourself they are only wet with sweat.

You two fall asleep twined with one another. It is unspoken between you, but neither of you try to clean yourselves up, relishing in the ache and basking in what’s left over from your love making.

When the morning comes, you’re the first awake. It is still dark outside, you realize as you gaze out the window, and you’re a tad surprised at how early you’ve risen. Unusual, but very welcome, as you are able to take in Bloodhound’s face. Out in the world, amongst others who have not known them so intimately as you, they will always wear their masks and helmets. You don’t blame them, know that they dress modestly to appease the Allfather—the bastard.

Yet that means it will be a very long time until you see their face again, whether in photographs or otherwise, and so you admire their unconscious face, lax with sleep. You’re decent enough to wipe away the little bit of drool at the corner of their mouth.

Bloodhound stirs to your side of the bed empty. They slowly rise, pattering out of your room, finding you at the table once again, hunched closely to something sitting on top of it.

“Good morning,” they say, and you look up, smiling at them, the corners of your eyes pinched even as you show your teeth.

“My love,” you say, then rise, bringing to them what they now realize is the hammer you had been whittling the night before. “You looked so peaceful asleep. I thought perhaps I’d feed Arthur and finish your hammer.”

They nod towards the raven, having not even noticed him perched on top of a cabinet. The raven has known for as long as them that they would be leaving and he seems particularly moody today, turning his head away sullenly at their greeting.

You take their hand in your own and they realize that there is a thick string sliding through a hole at the top of the smallish mallet. Your wood carvings are not as precise as theirs, but they still melt at the gesture, letting you loop the necklace over their head before their lips seek yours. 

When the time comes, you help Bloodhound pack. You were going to let them do it themselves, not keen on assisting them leave. Then, you notice how little they’ve put in their satchel and with a displeased sigh, you take it from their shoulder and march back into your room to have them take more.

Arthur perches on your shoulder as you and Bloodhound exit your home. You know their bird companion will be travelling with them, which will only make the house lonelier, but you feel he will at least keep your Bloodhound safe. They are often reckless where they needn’t be.

The sun is peaking over the horizon, casting brilliant reds across the sky. Like dusk, dawn never lasts long enough for your liking, and you’re certain of that now more than ever. The spirits around you are quiet, if they were ever there at all, and all your scattered mind can hone in on are the heavy foot falls of your spouse down the steps of your home.

“You take good care of them, Arthur,” you say, and Arthur nuzzles your cheek, murmuring. You’re sure if he could talk, he would tell you he will. Maybe he would even say that he’ll miss you. You smile, raising your hand so he can hop onto your finger and reaching out to transfer him to Bloodhound.

Bloodhound has yet to put their mask on. It’s a rare but sweet gesture. It isn’t as though anyone comes randomly into this part of the woods but still, the chance is there, and you know your love would be mortified if anyone aside from you saw them without their consent.

“I…” They begin and you’re unsure of what to say, too. You blink rapidly, taking a great, heaving breath, before you move forward to cup their cheeks.

“I love you,” you say, “and there are never enough words in our tongue or any others for me to tell you that. I will miss you every day that you are gone and until you return, I will feel a little less of myself.”

Bloodhound reaches a hand out to encircle the back of their neck. Their gloved thumb traces pacifying circles into the nape, sliding to the side to find the marks they left on your neck, which you bare freely. Before they can tug you, you lean in, and kiss them. You relish in their lips, still a little swollen, sliding against yours.

“I love you,” they breathe, barely parting from you, “I love you more than I have ever thought I could. We will be together again. I promise you.”

“Be safe,” you say, then part just enough to murmur the ancient blessing. You always mince some of the words, not having studied them nearly as much as Bloodhound, but they still bow their head and let you do it. You pray for fortuitous hunts, for kind weather, and, most importantly, that Bloodhound carry with them the protection of their Allfather – no matter how much you resent him.

With one final kiss goodbye, they turn, making their way into the forest. You slouch as they walk away, watching them go, until their back begins to darken in the trees.

Then, just like that, they are gone.

**Author's Note:**

> arthur is the best birb ever the end 
> 
> this is gonna have another part which will prob become multichapter. until then, enjoy!


End file.
